


i never said that we would die together (that doesn't mean it was a lie, remember)

by punto_y_coma



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Ghost Eddie, Ghost Eddie Kaspbrak, Love Confessions, M/M, One Shot, Post-Canon, Reddie, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-17 11:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21266687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punto_y_coma/pseuds/punto_y_coma
Summary: He dreamt about Eddie so much lately, it almost seemed normal to hear his voice, the echo of it humming against his ear. What wasn't normal was the sight of him, standing in his bedroom, pearl white, almost translucent, and so beautiful...
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 16
Kudos: 60





	i never said that we would die together (that doesn't mean it was a lie, remember)

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to post this yesterday for spoopy season but life happened. Title is from [ Lewis Capaldi's Forever](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fKhdec3uyrQ) (very angsty, very Reddie)  
Hope you enjoy <3

"Rich..."

He dreamt about Eddie so much lately, it almost seemed normal to hear his voice, the echo of it humming against his ear. What wasn't normal was the sight of him, standing in his bedroom, pearl white, almost translucent, and so beautiful... Richie had always thought of Eddie as pretty, his features a little boyish, his stance delicate, but death made him almost angelic.

"Eddie," he replied automatically, fixating on the way he moved around his things, like he belonged there, between his comfy armchair and his worn out clothes.

Eddie sat on the edge of the bed, carded his fingers through the creases of the bedsheets, the mattress didn't sink under him. He looked like he wanted to say something to Richie but couldn't find the right words, so he offered a lopsided grin instead; the cut on his cheek had turned into a scar, barely visible in the moonlight.

Between one breath and the next, he was gone, but the feeling of being watched didn't leave Richie until the morning light.

~

It happened again and again. Richie would see Eddie lounging on his couch, or in the reflection of the mirror as he brushed his teeth, or staring out the window of his apartment. It surprised Richie but it didn't scare him; it was like having a very silent roommate or maybe a very tall cat. Richie had tried talking to him a couple of times but it didn't work; Eddie moved silently, just a little slower than the world around him, and disappeared into nothing.

~

"Stanley says hi."

Richie arched his eyebrows and tried to keep his composure seeing Eddie opposite him. "_Fuck!_ It speaks!" he gasped and then lowered his voice to something softer, more appropriate for the half-empty coffee shop he was sitting in. "I just got his letter."

"Oh?"

"He sent one to all of us, before..." Richie let the sentence float. It was awkward to talk about death anyway, but talking about death with the ghost of your dead friend was a whole other level of weird.

"Before he killed himself?" Eddie offered helpfully, somehow cool with all of this.

"Yeah."

"He's visited his wife," Eddie said, his head turning towards the sun, he was diaphanous in that light. "He explained everything, got some peace."

"Shit," Richie said absently. "Is that why you're here, Eds?" it had crossed Richie's mind that Eddie had some unfinished business.

"Maybe," he replied cryptically. "It's weird, like waking up and trying to remember the dream, that sort of thing... Do you mind?"

"What?"

"If I stay with you while I figure it out," Eddie scratched under his left collarbone, near where his heart would have been had he not... "I don't know how long it's gonna take and I- I've missed you, Richie."

"I miss you too, buddy," Richie's voice broke and he realized then that he was crying. "I thought- I thought you were here to torment me," he confessed, "for leaving you down there. You were always scared of the dark."

Eddie giggled and it sounded like windpipes. "I'm here, dude, not there. Don't worry," his smile was sincere, filling his face with laughter lines. "No, I don't think I'm here for payback or that kind of shit."

"Then wh-?"

And just as suddenly as Eddie had appeared, he vanished.

~

"Jesus!"

Richie turned on the light of his apartment and gasped at the sight of Eddie sitting, legs crossed, at his desk. It had been three days since he last saw him at the coffee shop.

"Hey," Eddie waved. "These are funny," he gestured at his discarded Grindr jokes.

"Yeah, tell that to my agent," Richie sighed as he sat down on his couch. "He's threatened to drop me if I use any of them."

"Fuck him!" Eddie was smiling. "You know, it used to scare me, letting people know. Now, I wish I had told everyone, especially you."

"Eds..." Richie buried his face in his hands.

"I'm not saying anything would have happened," Eddie clarified.

"Oh, something would have happened, alright," Richie turned to look at him outraged. "You were my first crush, dickhead! I've loved you for thirty years!"

"I think ten years would be closer to the truth, Rich," Eddie gave him a patient smile. "We didn't even remember each other for a big chunk of that time."

"Fine! Do you want me to sing Endless Love to you? Because I fucking will!"

Eddie cackled. "I don't think anybody wants that," he intertwined both of his hands, one over the other, like he was holding someone else's hand. "What I meant is that you would have understood. Maybe something would have happened, who the hell knows..."

"No use wondering about that, right?" Richie said, resigned, looking at his feet. When he looked up, Eddie was gone.

~

Richie had started taking melatonin and going to therapy way before Derry part 2, mostly because everyone in LA did it but also because he hated dreaming. At some point, all of his dreams became nightmares and what was the point of going through that every night?

After he came back from Derry, no amount of melatonin could keep him from dreaming of Eddie dying in his arms over and over again. Sometimes he was resentful, regretting his decision to save Richie. Other times, he was shaking and terrified, crying to be saved and Richie could do nothing to help him. The worst times were when Eddie made it, when they got out of Neibolt together and alive. Then Richie would wake up crying when he realized it wasn't true, and lose him all over again...

This dream felt different.

He was lying on his back on a patch of grass, feeling a soft breeze around him. His eyes were closed but he could tell that it was sunny and that someone was lying beside him. He reached out with his hand and grabbed a wrist; the skin was dry from washing it too much...

"Eddie?" he rolled to his side and opened his eyes. There he was! Breathing and smiling! His eyes looked like honey in the afternoon light.

"Hey, asshole," he rolled to his side too. "I wanted to, uh, apologize," he was biting the side of his cheek in that nervously cute way that Richie adored.

"What for?"

"For the shit I said earlier. I wasn't thinking about you, man," Eddie turned to look at the sky. "I guess I never imagined that you wanted me the way I wanted you," he sighed.

"I s'ppose it's too little too late but, yeah," Richie squeezed his hand, "I love you, Eds. Always have."

"Love you too," Eddie scooted closer to him. "Always will," he whispered and kissed his temple.

Richie woke up feeling warmth inside his chest and the faint smell of Eddie's skin on his pillowcase.

~

Eddie didn't visit Richie's dreams every night, though Richie wished he would. They would meet at the Barrens, a version of it at least, always sunlit, always warm, summer everlasting. And they would interlock their fingers and talk about life and death and things they'd never said. It was their safe haven.

"I miss Stan," Richie said one time.

"He misses you too," Eddie moved so that his head was resting on Richie's shoulder. "Not your dick jokes, everything else."

"Rude! Those are like seventy percent of my personality!" Richie replied in mock outrage. He brushed his fingers over Eddie's arm, up and down, soothingly. "You know I dreamed about us like this for the longest time? I'm talking _fucking years_ during high school," he shook his head in disbelief and then pressed his lips on Eddie's forehead.

"You and me both, man," Eddie sighed, moving his hand to trace Richie's jawline, prickly with stubble. "God, we were so fucking dumb," he then turned, just enough so that his lips and Richie's touched. Richie responded immediately, like Eddie had dreamed he would, pulling him closer and smiling while he kissed. It was perfect and sweet and ethereal: a ghost of a kiss. It was all they'd ever have.

~

Richie was lounging on his couch, a messy pile of takeout on his coffee table, empty cans of beer at his feet. He was aggressively drunk and so he didn't even flinch when Eddie appeared next to him.

"Hey, Eds! My buddy, my chum, the love of my life! You look particularly pale this fine evening," he took a swig of beer and cheered in Eddie's direction. "How's things?"

"Fine, I guess," Eddie laughed and settled near where Richie's arm stretched over the couch, like he was holding him. "I had forgotten how sloppy you get when you're drunk."

"_Sloppy_," Richie giggled. "Have you found out why you're here?"

"Not yet," Eddie extended his feet over the coffee table, avoiding the empty Chinese containers.

"Goooood! I like to have you here" Richie offered him a can of beer and Eddie merely rolled his eyes at him. "Suit yourself," he sighed and sunk further into the cushions. "Thought I wouldn't see you after last night."

"Hmm?"

"The first boy I kissed stopped talking to me," Richie said, "_immediately_ after the fact."

"You really should bring that shit up with your therapist," Eddie looked worried and like he wanted to hold him until the hurt stopped.

"It's come up. Rejection, bla, trust issues, bla bla, complicated grief, bla, bla, bla..." Richie burped. "And that's without the memory of our childhoods at Derry," he turned to look at Eddie, completely besotted. "You're so fucking beautiful! Wanna get married?"

"Rich, stop. You're drunk," Eddie winced and dodged his touch.

"We would have sorted our shit out, right? Eventually," he reached out to touch Eddie's face and his hand went right through it and he cackled. "I must be drunker than I thought, Eddie baby..."

"Don't call me that," Eddie spat.

"You said you loved me," Richie pouted.

"I do, you dickswab! That's why it hurts that you're calling me stupid pet names and proposing!" Eddie sounded close to tears.

"It's just- I always wondered, y'know," Richie rolled down so that he was lying on the couch, his head on the armrest, "what it would feel like to say those things to you, what silly names we'd make up for each other. Didn't you?"

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck and stared at Richie, the mess of his hair, the bags under his eyes, so human, so alive... "I did," he moved towards Richie's cheek and stopped an inch away, not touching, just hovering, he couldn't feel him anyway. "I did, my love."

~

They were at the Barrens again, Eddie's head on Richie's belly.

"How do you feel about grand gestures?" Richie asked out of the blue.

"You mean like flash mobs and that kind of shit?"

"Yeah."

"I think they're gross," Eddie scrunched up his nose. "Why?"

"I was just thinking how mortifying -and hilarious- it would have been to do a bigass promproposal for you, back in the day."

Richie chuckled when Eddie covered his face with both hands.

"I would have died of sheer embarrassment and then I would have come back just to kick your face, asshole," Eddie slapped Richie's arm.

"But would you have said yes?"

Richie had that smug smile on and Eddie climbed up his chest just to kiss it away.

"Probably," he admitted, and then bit Richie's jaw in retaliation.

"Ouch! So violent!" Richie sounded weirdly appreciative of the fact. After a while, he nudged Eddie off of him and got up. He offered his hand: "Wanna dance?"

Eddie smiled and nodded, jumping to his feet and clinging to Richie's neck. They swayed without music until the light around them turned orange and pink: it was almost dusk.

~

"Hey! How are you?"

Richie turned from his mailbox to the door of the apartment building. His upstairs neighbor was there, motorbike helmet in hand, tousled ginger hair falling on his eyes.

"Good, man," Richie smiled. "How's work?"

"Good! Even in LA everyone's obsessed with May weddings so I've had a lot of gigs these past few weeks," he shook his head. "I've got about seven thousand photos of boho brides to go through but I'm not complaining," he gave Richie a playful smile. "What about you?"

"I'm doing a Netflix thing," Richie rubbed the back of his neck. "It's not my own special but if it goes well they might consider it."

"That's great," he patted Richie's shoulder and left his hand there for a bit. "Well, see you around Rich!"

"Yeah, see you around, man," Richie cleared his throat and kept on rustling through his mail.

"He's good-looking."

Eddie was standing next to him, his back to the mailboxes, and giving him a knowing look.

"I was being _nice_," Richie sulked, walking to his apartment with his hands in his pockets.

"You were being nice but he was definitely flirting," Eddie waited for him to open the door even though he could have gone through it just as easily.

"Whatever," Richie rolled his eyes and threw his mail messily over the table.

"Rich..."

"What?"

"Look at me," Eddie waited until Richie stopped staring into nothing and turned to him. "You don't owe me anything."

"For fuck's sake... Please don't ask me to go out there and mingle and pretend everything's fine because I fucking can't," Richie suddenly looked much older and tired. "You were everything I wanted and I can't just forget about that. Even if you weren't here like this," he gestured vaguely at his silhouette.

Eddie shook his head. "You know what? Scratch that. You do owe me," he walked towards him like he wanted to fight. "You owe me your fucking life! And I demand that you at least try to be happy."

"With my upstairs neighbor?" Richie huffed.

"With whomever the fuck you want!" Eddie looked like he would have slapped him if he had a body. "I'm dead, Richie!" it was a pained sigh, a confession.

"Don't you think I know that?!" Richie's eyebrows rose to his hairline and his voice broke.

"I think- I think you're still living like you're in a nightmare," Eddie ran his fingers through his hair; Richie couldn't feel a thing and that was somehow worse, "like it's not over yet... But it is."

"Eds," Richie looked close to sobbing, "my life is a nightmare. Why do you think I wake up sobbing every fucking day? You were always the best, the smartest, the kindest of us two! I had to go first, it had to be me!"

"Bullshit," Eddie's tone left no room for discussion. "It's bullshit and you know it. I did what I did because you reminded me I was brave. I could be brave and witty when I was with you. You made me better."

"Well, you made me better too, so..." Richie took off his glasses to wipe his eyes, when he put them back on, he couldn't find Eddie anymore. "Asshole."

~

Richie struggled to light up a cigarette. It had been surprisingly rainy the past few days and the balcony of his agent's office was windy as fuck.

"Thought you had quit," Eddie sounded somewhat disappointed when he appeared by his side. He was wearing a jacket, like that would do anything to stop the raindrops from going through him. Richie was going to mock him until he realized...

"That's my leather jacket, you sneaky ass bitch!" Richie said between coughs of smoke.

"You put it on me!" Eddie tightened it around his shoulders. It was a little baggy on him.

"Fair," Richie conceded. "You look cute," he said after a pause.

"Thanks," Eddie smiled. "Why are you nervous?"

"Who says I'm nervous?" he replied, stern.

"You're smoking," Eddie said simply.

Richie looked up at the downcast sky and sighed. "He says he'll drop me if I do any of my jokes. Or if I come out. Basically, if I don't follow their script on and off stage, I'm fucked," he exhaled and the smoke curled around Eddie's face in a way that made him look almost real.

"Huh," Eddie cocked his head and smiled mischievously.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just that I never thought of you as the obedient type," Eddie said, his voice coated in sugar, well aware of what he was doing.

"Oh, fuck you!" Richie threw the stub of his cigarette straight to his face. "You don't get to judge what I do for a living, you deathass-"

"Beep beep, Richie," Eddie wasn't even mad, if anything he was amused, because he knew him. He knew he couldn't live a lie, not forever.

~

There were thirty-seven water bottles in Richie's dressing room, as specified in his rider (he was still waiting for the day when someone asked about it so he could reply: "I'm a thirsty bitch."). He was sure because he had counted them three times already to calm his anxiety.

"Today's the day!" his agent had said, like that would ease his nerves. If everything went well, he'd get his own Netflix special, fame, fortune, etcetera. And, of course, Richie was planning to pour gasoline on everything and set it alight. Go with a bang. Fuck it all.

He wished Eddie could see this but his visits were less common and further apart lately. He gave one last look around and huffed. His agent shoved him onstage as he was being announced: yet another detail he wasn't going to miss. He waved and smiled at the bright spotlight, grabbed the mic and leaned on the mic stand as casually as he could.

"How's everyone tonight?" a loud cheer, and some very manly woops from his dudebro audience. This was going to be tough. "Everyone had a good, uh, childhood?" a confused murmur and a very loud 'Hell, no!' Richie chuckled nervously. "My man, over there!" he pointed at the voice, way down the back. "Yeah, same man. Childhood was the _worst_. And, yeah, I know, a white, middle-aged comedian complaining about his childhood is such a cliché but what else is new?"

God, his heart was pounding, his hands were shaking, and his mouth was getting dry. He took a swig of water and looked at the audience, his heart skipped a beat. There in the front row was Eddie, smiling and flipping him off. Richie smiled back. He could do this.

"I'll tell ya what's new! I've started dating again!" some high-pitched woops. "Yeah! It's exciting! I'm dating men now," big cackles and applause. "That's not a joke," he said flatly, careful that every word was understood. "My agent will literally kill me for saying this so y'all better record this shit," he made eye contact with the cameramen around him and the one rogue audience member that was recording everything on his phone. "This is probably my last show, guys!" a soft and confused chuckle, no booing yet, so better than he expected.

"Hahaha, yeah. Where was I? Childhood, right!" he started walking around, feeling a little less nervous when he caught Eddie's eye. "So I went back to my hometown to a middle school reunion of sorts. I got to see all my old friends. Life is so unfair, they've all gotten so good-looking, and I've gotten like this," Richie gestured at himself and got a murmur of sympathetic awwws. "Yeah, I know, I know. Now, the "chubby" guy of the group," he made a point of obnoxiously doing the air quotation marks, "his name is Ben Hanscom, Google him, I'll wait," he leaned on the mic stand until he could hear a couple of gasps from the audience and a zealous _'Jesus Christ'_ from a lady on the front row.

"Right?! He's literally like every Brazilian soccer player rolled into one hottie. _Gorgeous!_ So I caught myself saying that, _to him_, and I went 'Huh, guess I've been a little bit gay this whole time," Richie waited for the hate to come, for the rotten fruit to be thrown but nothing happened, just silence.

"I'm, uh, very disorganized. You probably can tell by my, uh, everything," soft giggles. "So I'm used to misplacing shit and losing shit and forgetting shit. Now, forgetting the name of your neighbor's cat is one thing... _But forgetting you like men..._" a bit of a chuckle. "Anyway, one of my friends figured it out and made me promise to be proud and that's what I'm trying to do, I guess. And I figured I'm a loser anyway so..." kind, warm applause. "Oh, thank you! Uh, all of this to say that I've downloaded Grindr and changed my settings on Tinder; now it says I'm looking for men from thirty to one hundred, because beggars can't be choosers, am I right, fellas?" a big cackle, nice and authentic. From his seat Eddie clapped for him.

"That's my time, guys! You've been so nice, I've been Richie Tozier!"

~

"I'm proud of you," Eddie said.

"Thanks," Richie's smile was soft and childlike. He tugged Eddie closer to his side, the heat of his skin felt almost real, keeping the chill of the night at bay. "We'll see what happens."

"Stan really liked the shout-out. Especially because you didn't say his name," Eddie added absentmindedly, his fingers gently pulling at Richie's chest hair.

"I knew he was too shy to take credit," Richie brushed his fingers up and down Eddie's spine. They had been at the Barrens for a while, busy drawing constellations on each other's backs, memorizing the slope of Eddie's nose and the angle of Richie's jaw, and seeing just how lovely it was to listen to their own name, moaned and pleading, from the other's lips. "Can I ask you something?"

Eddie looked up at him. "Is this a set-up for a dick joke? Will you make me regret the past few hours?"

"No, dumbass. I'm full of profound questions, especially when it's pillow talk," Richie deadpanned and moved his hand to trace the curve of Eddie's arm. "Were you this ripped when you were alive or is this my middle-aged brain just rotting with love for you?"

"I guess you'll never know," Eddie said with a satisfied grin, catlike, too proud.

"You were!" Richie's eyebrows rose. "What the fuck, Eds?! We're forty!"

"I had a disappointing marriage, a high-stress job, and no hobbies, Rich," he shrugged.

"Sounds hellish."

"It was."

They stayed in silence for a bit, just breathing. The sky above turned purple, no clouds in sight as it signaled the arrival of dawn. Was it time to wake up already?

"Have you figured it out?" Richie asked.

"Hmm?" Eddie was half-asleep on Richie's shoulder.

"Your unfinished business?"

Eddie climbed on top of Richie, leaving a trail of kisses, on his collarbone, his neck, his jaw, his cheekbone, his eyelids and, finally, on his lips.

"I think I have."

**Author's Note:**

> Richie's standup is loosely based on [ Mae Martin's hilarious routine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvxT1YTOgLI) . She's a bicon and a queen.  
Kudos and comments are love <3  
Come talk to me at my tumblr (@aralisj) if you want :)


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